


Stretch of the Imagination

by Piplup212



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale has stretch marks, Body Image, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Insecurity, M/M, Mentioned Gabriel (Good Omens), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Beta Read, Pampering, Self-Esteem Issues, Wing Grooming, big projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 12:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20470697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piplup212/pseuds/Piplup212
Summary: Crowley wants to treat Aziraphale. The angel's thoughts of his body have something different to say about it.





	Stretch of the Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> i had this sitting as a wip in my google drive for WEEKS and i finally mustered up the creativity to finish it. not beta read at all, but i really hope y'all enjoy it regardless because I certainly enjoyed writing it <3

Aziraphale wrung his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Crowley, I don’t know…”

Crowley puffed and waved his hand almost dismissively. He was holding a thrice refilled scotch in his other hand and was leaning over the back of Aziraphale's sofa. "Aw, c'mon, angel. It'll be nice, getting those loose feathers out, stretching your wings." He leaned closer to Aziraphale on the couch, folding an arm over the other and taking care not to spill his drink. "It'd be like a day at the spaaa~."

Aziraphale crossed his arms, pressing in on himself. "Crowley, I just don't know if I'm comfortable with that, that's a rather…" He glanced down at the body his arms were crossed over, glancing away from it and Crowley, "vulnerable position to put myself in."

Crowley looked him up and down once, sighing and walking around the back of the couch to place the glass on the table. Somewhere in the bookshop, a bottle of scotch was refilled.

Aziraphale didn't move his arms as Crowley took a seat next to him. He did offer his gaze, looking through his sunglasses to the faint lines indicating his eyes. Crowley put a hand on his knee, studying Aziraphale's face. "Can I ask why you feel that way?"

Aziraphale relaxed under Crowley's touch, his arms staying limply crossed. He bit his bottom lip as he thought. When he spoke up, his voice was small and his gaze once again averted from his partner. "I have… stretch marks. All over. There isn't any way you wouldn't see them." He brought a hand up to rub his temples and cover his eyes.

Crowley tapped his thumb on Aziraphale's knee, contemplating. Though he and Aziraphale both showed romantic sentiments to each other and had formed a relationship (Aziraphale was quite fond of the term 'boyfriend', and who was Crowley to object when it made the angel _smile_ like that), they hadn't advanced to a point where either of them had initiated a reason to show each other more of their bodies than they usually did. This was fine, Aziraphale knew that if he were to ever want to indulge in any of the specific pleasures of the flesh, Crowley would be right beside him, and Crowley knew that, as much as it may frustrate him, he was willing to go as slow as the angel would need in regards to _anything._

"Is it bad if I see them?"

Aziraphale looked at him incredulously, tensing up once again. Crowley leaned in on the hand on Aziraphale's knee and spoke in a soft voice, a voice he saved only for Aziraphale. "I don't want to force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with. We _don't_ have to do this, I just wanted to ask what it is about the idea that makes you uncomfortable and see if we could remedy it." 

Aziraphale again relaxed at Crowley’s contact, moving slightly closer. “I understand. I think my issue is…” He sighed and looked to Crowley, his eyes looking rather tired. “I’ve told you the things Gabriel said.”

Behind Crowley’s sunglasses, his eyes began to burn in anger. “Yes, you have. Has he been coming here, saying more shit like that to you?” 

His grip on Aziraphale’s knee tightened. With a small flinch at Crowley’s language, Aziraphale put a hand over Crowley’s. “No, no, he hasn’t. Sometimes I… I remember the things he’d tell me, and I can’t tell if it’s him saying those things, or…” Aziraphale’s free hand clutched his trousers. “... or if it’s me.”

Crowley’s heart broke to pieces at his statement. He moved closer, putting an arm over Aziraphale’s shoulders. The angel leaned in, settling into the demon’s side. “Aziraphale, I’ve told you this before and you’re probably tired of hearing it.” Crowley took his hand off of Aziraphale’s knee and removed his sunglasses, setting them on the table next to his glass. He put his hand under Aziraphale’s chin, tipping his face up to meet his eyes. “I think you’re beautiful. If you don’t want to show me anything, that’s _fine._ I understand. But I wouldn’t ever ridicule you for your body.”

Aziraphale smiled, the little worn wrinkles on his face defining themselves. “I’ll consider it.”

Crowley smiled back, leaning down and giving him a gentle kiss. “And I’ll be right here when you make a decision.” 

Crowley shut the door of the Bentley, locking it with a snap of his fingers as he walked up to the door of the bookshop. He knocked in a specific pattern and, a moment later, heard scrambling behind the door as it was thrown open. 

Aziraphale’s glasses were askew on his nose and Crowley could see a book wide open on the desk. He adjusted Aziraphale’s glasses, fixing some of the stray curls. “I’m sorry, angel, did I interrupt your reading?”

Aziraphale shook his head, moving out of the doorway to allow Crowley in. “Dear, you know I always have time for you. Would you like some tea?” Crowley stepped in, shaking his head at the offer, and Aziraphale gathered the book from the desk in his hands, placing a bookmark on the page before closing it. They both moved to the sofa in the back, Crowley lying with his head in Aziraphale’s lap as the angel continued reading, playing with the demon’s hair absentmindedly.

The company was enjoyed in silence, save for the sound of pages turning. When Aziraphale reached the end of a chapter, he returned the bookmark to the book and set it aside. He looked down at Crowley, still running his fingers through his hair. He was half-asleep, his eyelids hanging lazily over his now fully serpentine eyes. 

Aziraphale broke the silence with a whisper. “Do you remember the suggestion you made to me, that ‘spa day’ idea?” Crowley looked up, taking a moment to process Aziraphale’s words before letting out a quiet ‘mhm’. “I think… I think I’d like to try it.”

Crowley’s eyes blew wide and he sat up hastily. “Really?” Aziraphale nodded and the demon immediately got to his feet, holding a hand out to him. Aziraphale took it rather hesitantly, obviously caught off guard by his reaction.

“Now?”

Crowley shrugged, pulling him up from the sofa. “Why not? I’ve got nothing else planned.” Aziraphale laughed, that laugh that made Crowley’s heart go haywire. The demon scooped up his sunglasses and put them on before heading out the door, Aziraphale’s hand still in his.

Aziraphale let Crowley lead him to the Bentley, the demon opting not to create a bathroom above a rather old antique bookshop. That wouldn’t go well, he was sure. Crowley sped down the street, arriving quickly at his flat and pulling Aziraphale along. He led him to a rather large and lavish bathroom, rushing to a cabinet under the sink and retrieving a basket of wing oils and other preening accessories that Aziraphale had always found quite unnecessary.

“You can undress to however you’re most comfortable, but you’ll probably need your shirt off. I’ll be able to get to the base of your wings that way.” He shed his jacket down to his black sleeved shirt.

Crowley heard silence, not turning around to give Aziraphale privacy before he heard a snap of Aziraphale’s fingers and he signaled to turn around. When Crowley looked, he saw Aziraphale in baby blue swim shorts that went down almost to his knees. He did, in fact, have light pink lines running along parts of his stomach and back, as well as his arms. He was positively adorable.

Aziraphale fixed his gaze on the floor. “They’re on my legs, too. I- I’ve managed to get them to be… less prominent, but try as I might, I can’t get rid of them.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, bringing the basket over to the bathtub and setting it down with a shrug. “I think they’re cute.” He looked back to see Aziraphale walking over, wiping his eyes. Crowley decided he wouldn’t push it. 

The angel climbed into the tub, staying turned away from Crowley as he brought his wings into this reality. Loose feathers fell out as he gently flapped them over the edge of the tub and stretched them. Crowley knelt behind him, running his fingers through the feathers and getting out the more stubborn loose feathers. He took his time, straightening out crooked feathers and working a lavender-scented oil into the muscles at the base of Aziraphale’s wings, working out any knots in the area. 

Crowley made some conversation, asking about any new books Aziraphale had gotten sent into the bookshop. The angel seemed to readily perk up at the topic, causing a soft warmth to spread through Crowley’s chest. It always made him so happy to hear the angel talk about his growing collection, even if he didn’t always understand. It made Aziraphale happy, and that made Crowley happy.

There came a point where Crowley stopped, running his thumbs over the slightly indented lines on Aziraphale’s back. “They really are lovely.”

“You don’t…” Aziraphale pulled his wings in, falling from his excited state and into a more dejected one. “You don’t need to lie to me, Crowley.”

“I’m not lying.” Aziraphale fully turned around, looking to Crowley for the first time since they entered the bathroom. His eyes were just barely red and dried tear tracks rested on his cheeks. Concern washed over Crowley and he moved his hands to Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Angel, whatever your head tells you about them, it’s wrong. They aren’t ugly or bad. They’re a part of you, and every part of you is beautiful.”

Aziraphale hung his head, wiping his eyes again. “Angels aren’t supposed to… have imperfections.”

Crowley moves a hand up to cup the angel’s cheek. “Who says they’re imperfections?” Aziraphale doesn’t answer, looking away and staring at the pile of loose feathers that Crowley had gathered. Crowley sighed, giving Aziraphale a pat on the back and standing up. “Alright. Let me show you something.”

Aziraphale looked back to Crowley as he stood and took a few steps back before turning around. He pulled his shirt over his head and heard a tiny gasp from Aziraphale as he did so. The angel stood and stepped out of the tub, walking over and running a fingertip over the horizontal, dark pink lines on the middle and lower part of Crowley’s back. 

“You have them too?” Aziraphale gently nudged Crowley’s face to look at him. The demon turned around and turned his arms, revealing similar lines on the inside of his upper arms. The angel’s eyes trailed down Crowley's torso to his slightly wider hips, seeing paler white lines on them. He put a hand to them, gently pushing at the waistband of Crowley’s trousers and looking to him. The demon nodded and Aziraphale slipped the waistband down his hip a bit to get a better look at them.

Crowley spoke as Aziraphale made his inspections. "They happen when your body grows faster than it’s used to or is prepared for, I'm sure you know. I guess turning from a snake into a whole person tends to fall under those categories.” He lowered his arms, putting a hand on Aziraphale’s upper arm. “And I think it’s a safe guess to say you don’t think they make me imperfect.”

Aziraphale shook his head, running his hand along Crowley’s hipbone. “No, they don’t.” Crowley brings his hand to Aziraphale’s hip, feeling the marks wrapping around the soft skin there. Aziraphale placed his forehead against Crowley’s shoulder, the demon reaching up to stroke his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Angel, you have nothing to apologize for.” Crowley looped his fingers in the angel’s curls. "I'll never expect you to completely lose those insecure thoughts, Somebody knows that I have plenty of my own. But don't let those thoughts make you think you're less than." He plants a kiss on the top of Aziraphale's head in his short curls. "I love you."

Aziraphale gave Crowley a wobbly smile, leaning into the demon. "I love you, too."

They stood in silence, gently caressing each others stretch marks and eliciting small giggles at some of the more ticklish ones. Crowley was the first to speak up again. "Thank you for letting me do this for you, your wings look _much_ better."

Aziraphale stretched and flapped his wings. "They certainly feel better. Thank you so much, dear." 

Crowley responded with a gentle kiss on the angel's forehead, pulling him close. "Any time. We can always make this a regular thing if you'd like, but for now…" He leans further down to give Aziraphale a soft, long kiss on the lips. "I'd like to get under that big fluffy comforter back at the bookshop and have you read to me. Sound like a plan?"

"Definitely." Aziraphale snapped his fingers and within no time at all, they were in the small bedroom situated above the bookshop. Crowley's head rested on Aziraphale's stomach, both of them having donned some comfortable matching pajamas, and Aziraphale softly read him to sleep, enjoying a night free of doubts or worries about the body he was given.


End file.
